


Indulgences

by StarshipDancer



Category: A Very Potter Musical, Starkid
Genre: M/M, Quirrellmort - Freeform, Quirrelmort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarshipDancer/pseuds/StarshipDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quirrell likes to read before bed.  Voldemort just has to deal with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indulgences

Quirinus Quirrell only indulged himself in a few different ways. One of them was gardening. He loved tending to his flowers and watching them flourish with every passing day. The other way he treated himself was with a good book. Growing up, Quirrell had always found a solace in books that he could not find in companionship. Books didn't tease him for his stutter or judge him for loving flowers so much. No, books transported him anywhere he wanted to go, introduced him to countless varieties of people, and taught him more than any person ever could. That was why he'd always loved teaching so much; he loved sharing books and knowledge with everyone, especially those younger than him.

_Some_ , however, did not share his love for the written word.

"Quirrell… _man_ … Aren't you done with that book yet? I'm ready for bed!" The former Dark Lord rolled over in their bed to face Quirrell, his expression of annoyance nearly making the professor chuckle.

"Then go to bed," Quirrell suggested calmly, as though they might be discussing the weather. Ironically, most of their conversations about the weather  _did_  involve Voldemort seething over the rain and Quirrell serenely reminding him that he was nowhere sweet enough to melt.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I've been  _trying_ to go to bed for half an hour now! Your bloody light is keeping me awake!"

Quirrell feigned ignorance. Of course he'd  _noticed_  his partner's tossing and turning. He was just feeling particularly devious tonight and wanted to see how long before Voldemort spoke up about it. Some nights, Voldemort actually managed to doze off while Quirrell finished reading. Others, Voldemort would whine and complain about the light until Quirrell finally gave in and went to bed. Quirrell did know best, though; Voldemort just hated going to bed by himself and wanted to cuddle, and the professor couldn't really complain about that.

This was a very good book, though, and Quirrell had been dying to find a moment to start reading it. Voldemort could handle another ten minutes with the light on, couldn't he? Quirrell decided to test that theory.

"I could go into the living room and read on the couch if you'd like? Then you can turn the light out and get some sleep."

Voldemort considered this, grumbling again. "No, no, no! You have back troubles. If you fell asleep on the couch, I'd never hear the end of it in the morning. I'll just…cover my head." Dramatically, he dragged the duvet up over his noggin, and Quirrell could practically feel him teeming with annoyance.

"Good night, Voldemort," Quirrell said sweetly, knocking the ball home.

A growl sounded from beneath the blanket. "Good night, Quirrell."

Satisfied, Quirrell returned to the novel, more than a little surprised that Voldemort had relinquished so easily. He did feel a little bad for playing to his partner's weakness (his weakness being Quirrell himself, in every case), so he decided he'd finish the chapter then go to bed. Voldemort would certainly still be awake then, if his grumpiness withstood.

And it did. Quirrell hadn't even arrived at the bottom of the page when Voldemort threw off the covers and glowered at the book. "What's so interesting about that damn thing anyways?"

Quirrell shrugged a little. "It's a good story, so far. I haven't read too much yet, but I've loved what I have read." He hadn't meant to direct that comment at his companion, but the ex-Dark Lord  _did_  keep interrupting him every time he tried to finish the same sentence. At this rate, he'd never finish the page, let alone the book.

Voldemort huffed a little, considering. His lips pursed, he tilted his head to glance at the back of the book, which was hardcover so it didn't reveal any of its secrets to him. Finally, with a groan, he muttered, "What is it about?" Quirrell nearly laughed at the curiosity Voldemort was so determined to mask.

"Oh, the usual. Far-off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise…"

Voldemort cocooned himself in the sheet moodily. "Sounds boring."

"It really isn't." Quirrell glanced over at him, an idea occurring to him. "Would you like me to read it to you?" Now that he thought about it, he didn't recall Voldemort ever picking up a book, and he always scorned Quirrell whenever he was reading, even when they'd been physically attached.

He could still hear Voldemort's gruff voice in his ear scolding,  _We have work to be doing, and you're sitting here reading romance novels!_   _Harry Potter won't kill himself!_

_Well, it would be awfully convenient if he did kill himself,_ Quirrell would always quip, and that generally got him into even more trouble. Not much had changed, except now Voldemort picked on him because he wanted attention and not because he wanted to murder a kid.

Voldemort deliberated, apparently weighing out his options as Quirrell enjoyed his little flashback to the early days of their relationship. He was brought back to earth as Voldemort, still rolled up tightly in the sheet, fell unceremoniously against Quirrell, his head dropping to rest on the professor's shoulder. Quirrell raised an eyebrow quizzically, and Voldemort merely shrugged.

"Seeing as you're not going to turn out the bloody light any time soon, I might as well hear this infernal book."

Quirrell's mouth split into a brilliant smile, and he nodded enthusiastically. He put his arm around the Dark Lord, tucking him close to him, and Voldemort sighed with contentment. Quirrell flipped to the first page, only a couple from his current location, and started to read.

At first, he thought Voldemort might fall asleep from boredom. The more he read, the more interested Voldy became, and soon he was hanging on Quirrell's every word, as engrossed in the tale as Quirrell was. It wasn't until he reached the third chapter that Quirrell glanced down and saw his partner had finally dozed off, but he couldn't help the grin that broke out at seeing Voldemort's peaceful face. It didn't really surprise Quirrell that reading to him put Voldemort to sleep so easily; what did surprise him was how long it took before Voldemort finally  _did_  crash.

Satisfied, he put his book on the bedside table and turned out the light. As Quirrell settled down under the blanket, Voldemort mumbled something and wormed his way closer, still wrapped up in the sheet, and Quirrell smiled contentedly. If this was how things would turn out, maybe he'd have to start indulging himself more often.


End file.
